Posted on 06/25/2006 7:32:51 PM PDT by JCJanko
It’s summer, so let’s think about the sunny fun we have ahead of us.
Imagine you decide it’s time to go to the beach. A good friend of yours is not too excited about the venture, so you do a little coaxing. It won’t be just you two; there will be a bunch of the boys with you. Unfortunately, the forecasts from the best meteorologists aren’t predicting very favorable weather for the next few weeks, but you are determined. You decide, after waiting for what seems way too long, your day has come. So you get up nice and early, and before you know it, you hit the beach with perfect weather for your day. Then, shortly after you arrive, the excitement begins.
No, it isn’t girls in bikinis or a keg of cold beer. You suddenly are hit by shrapnel from God knows what, and your friend runs off in horror in an attempt to complete the mission. As you pick up your arm that nearly completely fell off, your friend explodes after presumably running over a mine. You see, this is not just some other day at the beach, this is the greatest day at the beach: June 6, 1944, D-Day, and you have just become the first wave of Operation Overlord, the invasion of Normandy that would decide the fate of Western Civilization. You are on Utah Beach.
You are Henry Ratajczak of the 299th Engineer Combat Battalion. Your friend is Alfred Kurzawski, and he’s dead, like many others. You didn’t drive to the beach in an old Chevy, you landed on an LST (Landing Ship Tank), where most of you puked your guts out from the anxiety and the seasickness. No, you did not decide to go to the beach today, General Dwight David Eisenhower did, but you were ready. Sure, it was tough, but you did it, and so did many others.
This is just one of the thousands of personal stories from that day, both on the beaches and behind enemy lines. Some will never be told. Others are just waiting to be.
Most people have no idea the significance of June 6. Many of these same people believe Memorial Day about one week earlier is most importantly the unofficial beginning of summer. It’s a sad reflection of American society today.
Those who do understand the importance of this day in history see how incredibly different our lives could have been had the brave men not sacrificed the way they did. More importantly, they see how life could have been had they failed. This fact alone exceeds all others in distinction:
They did not fail.
Considering the numerous factors against them, from the weather to the sheer magnitude of the invasion, nearly everything needed to go perfect to succeed. Unfortunately, "perfect" in this situation meant thousands dead and more injured.
But the story does not stop there.
For the men who survived, life did not just go back to that perfect life you see from TV in the fifties. Reattaching an arm can’t be much fun, I assume. It was said by his wife that Henry did not sleep for almost six years after coming home. I know I am fairly cranky when I need to get up before noon sometimes (I work nights and stay up late). I cannot even imagine having to bear the burden of what these men experienced. Alfred’s family was told he was dead, then alive, then dead again afterwards. I would not wish that on anyone.
Henry Ratajczak is not just another soldier in this war; he was my grandfather. He never told me this story. In fact, from what I can gather he only told the story once, to Alfred’s family when they asked for answers. Fortunately, my grandmother was there to hear it.
My grandfather died in 1991, after a long bout with cancer. When I started college in 2000, I immediately started researching his experiences and contacted many people who knew him from reunions. Due to illness, I was not able to keep in contact nor attend any reunions as of yet. However, the people I met through this journey have always been at the front of my mind.
I also have a cigarette ad in my cube at work from 1944. My grandfather is in it, storming the beaches of Florida in preparation for the real thing.
There is also one more reason this stays in my mind every day. After researching heavily for months, my daughter was born in the early morning hours on June 6, 2001, at the same time of the morning this was all happening just 57 years earlier. I cannot look at her without thinking about the special day she came into this world, and the many who left it years before.
Happy birthday Alina, and thank you to all who made her freedom possible. Thank you Grandpa.
Inspirational and very well written. Thanks for sharing.
I apreciate your comments. I always wonder what it would be like to talk to my grandfather about this. Of course I'll never know, but at least I got what's here. I wish I knew who else was in the cigarette ad with him. I'll post it on my website soon.
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